


Say Hello To My Little Friends

by RainyDayDecaf



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, M/M, Major Character Injury, Pre-Arrangement (Good Omens), Rescue, Snakes, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27584462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyDayDecaf/pseuds/RainyDayDecaf
Summary: The first time Aziraphale was in trouble, rescue came from a very unlikely source.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 77
Kudos: 308





	Say Hello To My Little Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Just felt like writing some angst today.

There was a snake in the cell with him.

Aziraphale blinked. Coughed a little and smiled wanly. “Oh. Hello. How long have you been there?”

The snake flicked its tongue. It was rather adorable. Small and green with a white underbelly and regarding him with curious black eyes.

“I’m afraid I’m not much company at the moment.” Aziraphale held up his wrists, bound together with rope, and even that little movement drained what little strength he had. He closed his eyes and curled up a little tighter and wished those humans hadn’t taken his clothes. It was one less barrier between his skin and the agonizing burn of desecrated ground. Blood had been spilled on the altar of this temple, innocent souls violated and sacrificed, and none of it in the name of any god, only greed and sadism. Much like a demon on holy ground, an angel such as himself was utterly powerless in a place like this.

He felt the snake bump its snout against his fingers. Aziraphale opened his eyes blearily and wondered how the poor thing had ended up down here. This was no place for a creature without internal temperature regulation. Dark and damp with no soft foliage to slither over, no sun-warmed rocks to bask upon. Oh, how he missed the sun. And the wind. And the taste of clean water. Once all of this nonsense was over with, he very much wanted a bath with bubbles and a glass of wine and a whole basket of those little colorful soaps that smelled so nice… 

A door slammed somewhere outside his tiny cell. The snake flicked its tongue again and turned away, slipping out through a crack in the wall.

Oh well, Aziraphale thought a little sadly. It was probably for the best. He was suffering enough for the both of them.

* * *

A second snake came the next day.

Aziraphale almost missed it, he was still woozy from being bled by his captors. He wasn’t quite sure what the humans were doing with the blood they drew from his veins day after day. He had heard one of them mention drinking it and another suggested spilling it on crops or passing it out in little vials as a talisman… but whatever it was, they sure did like to take a _lot_ of it each time. Aziraphale spent most of his days unconscious, shivering and barely clinging to life while his captors jeered and laughed at the sight of a demigod brought so low.

He really did wish he could correct them on a number of assumptions. Firstly, there was nothing magical about his blood. The blood had come with the corporation, it was no more a part of _him_ than the clothes he wore. (Had worn). Secondly, a demigod and an angel were two _very_ different things, the one being human in origin and the other purely celestial. The Great Plan only allowed for two of the former, neither of which had been born yet, although Aziraphale had seen a memo about a star and some shepherds not far in the future.

And thirdly… er, thirdly… 

…the thought escaped him. Aziraphale sighed and looked at his latest scaly visitor. “Hello. What is your name?”

The snake didn't answer, of course. A pity Aziraphale had never properly learned how to converse with animals. Most could sense what he was—or rather, what he was _not_ —and either kept a wary distance or ignored him entirely.

But this one seemed a little more curious. The snake was longer and thicker than the first with tan and brown scales in a striped pattern. How lovely. He had never seen that type before.

“I don’t suppose you know Crawly?” Aziraphale whispered. He swallowed and licked his dry, cracked lips. “Rather big snake, he is. Black and red. Gave the apple away in Eden? I’m sure you’ve heard of him. Do snakes talk to other snakes?”

The snake came close enough that its questing tongue touched his ankle, where the humans had sliced his tendons so he couldn’t walk. It reared back with a hiss.

“They’re not very hospitable, are they?” Aziraphale giggled drunkenly at his own joke. “My report for this town will _not_ be favorable.”

The snake looped itself around his ankle and stayed there for a long time. Aziraphale held very, very still and struggled not to weep in gratitude. The snake was only using him for warmth, that was all, but it was nice to pretend it was trying to comfort him. Keep his spirits up. If only for a little while, he let himself be fooled.

“Someone will come,” Aziraphale said, to himself more than the snake. “Very soon, you’ll see. Someone _must_ come. I…”

He sobbed.

“…I don’t know how much more I can take.”

* * *

“Your blood isn’t working.”

“Very sorry about that,” Aziraphale said. He couldn’t lift his head and only stayed upright by the arms gripping his shoulders, the hand roughly fisted in his hair. “If only you had asked _nicely…”_

Someone struck him across the face. Aziraphale tumbled to the ground again, vision splintered by flashes of red and white. The voices of his captors floated to him from what seemed a great distance.

“…might’ve been wrong…?”

“…but we all _saw_ him heal the…”

“…just try again! We just haven’t figured out the best way yet!”

They grabbed for him again. Aziraphale whimpered when they untied his wrists, an ornate dagger flashing in the dim light.

“No, _please._ It won’t help! Just let me go, please…!”

The dagger slashed down again.

* * *

The next time he awoke, there were four snakes. Two wrapped around his upper arm, another coiled atop his foot, and the little green snake had burrowed into his hair, the tip of a tail hooked around his ear.

“Such sweet creatures, you are,” Aziraphale slurred. “I wish I could become a snake. Crawly made it look so easy. Just…” He waggled his fingers and gasped when the little motion made the deep wound on his forearm throb. “…just like that, you know. He’s very talented, for a demon. I’m not supposed to say that, but I doubt any of you report to Gabriel.”

The little one in his hair poked its head out and nosed at his temple. That one was his favorite. The green of its scales made him think of Eden and apples and rainstorms and other pleasant things. Things that kept his mind off the current circumstances.

“I may just let myself discorporate,” Aziraphale sighed. He wrinkled his nose. “How does one go about doing that? I can't just… turn it off, can I?”

He tried holding his breath and concluded after twenty minutes that it really wasn’t that simple. His corporation was designed to serve him for thousands upon thousands of years without fail, of _course_ he couldn't just tell it to cease functioning.

Well… he would just have to buck up, that was all. This wouldn’t go on forever, it _couldn’t._ If nothing else, humans had finite lifespans. Although he really didn’t want to think about spending twenty or forty or _sixty_ years in this awful cell.

He heard footsteps again and flinched so violently that the snake on his foot lurched away with a displeased hiss.

“Oh… oh no.”

The lock clicked, the door swinging open.

“Please, no more,” Aziraphale begged, before his captors had even walked inside. “I don’t have anything more to _give.”_

As the first human approached, leaning down to seize him by his hair, the green snake on his head hissed and struck.

The human tumbled back, crying out and clutching his hand where two pinpricks of blood welled up.

The second human rushed inside to pull the first one away, and that one was bitten as well, by the brown and tan snake at Aziraphale’s feet. Cursing and shrieking something about venom, the humans both fled the cell and threw the lock back in place.

“Well, that’s what you get,” Aziraphale muttered at the door. “You… _bad_ people.”

* * *

A long time passed. His captors did not return. But the snakes did, quite a lot of them this time. Big ones, little ones, some with vibrant colors and patterns, some with jewel-bright eyes that reminded him of a certain demon. They came and went as they pleased, but Aziraphale always had at least half a dozen draped upon his person now, wrapped around his limbs, nosing at his cheeks and temples, hissing softly in his ear. Aziraphale couldn’t make heads or tails of this strange behavior, but refused to question it. After so long feeling nothing but pain, he liked the smooth, pebbly touch of their scales on his skin. He liked how they squeezed him, the weight and pressure oddly soothing.

He often wondered, in his most private thoughts, how it would feel to touch Crawly in his snake form. He wondered if Crawly would ever consent to curl up around him like this, make him feel held and secure and _safe..._

Crawly. The thought kept coming back as he lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness. Something important. Something to do with Crawly.

Oh. Oh, how foolish he had been.

“Could one of you take a message to him?” Aziraphale rasped. “To Crawly. He’s a serpent, like you. Or well… he’s _the_ Serpent, I suppose. The definite article, you might say. Could you tell him… just tell him where I am?”

He thought he heard a hiss, felt one of the snakes clinging to his calf stir and slither off through the crack in the wall. There, it was done. Wouldn’t be long now, he hoped. Aziraphale reached up to stroke his favorite little green one and waited.

* * *

At last, at long last, he heard footsteps approaching. From outside the cell, someone called his name. “Aziraphale?”

That voice. Oh, _that voice._ Aziraphale knew he shouldn’t be so happy to hear it. Crawly was the enemy, the Opposition, he was not to be trusted. And Aziraphale was wounded and weakened from his imprisonment, and of course the desecrated ground left him at a disadvantage. He was in no state to defend himself. Any other demon would have taken such an opportunity to mock and torment him.

But Crawly wasn't any other demon. He wasn’t cruel. Why, he could be downright civil when compared to his fellows. If Aziraphale asked it of him, in all earnestness, Crawly would surely understand his plight and discorporate him as an act of… well, not _mercy._ Call it professional courtesy. They would both stand to benefit, anyway. Crawly would get a commendation, and Aziraphale would no longer be trapped in this wretched cell.

The lock on his cell door melted into a puddle. As the door creaked open, the snakes all raised their heads and began hissing furiously.

“What the…?” Crawly backed up to the wall and danced sideways to avoid a bite. “Oi! I’m bigger than you, back off!”

“Crawly,” Aziraphale said, trying for a polite smile, but it came out more like a grimace. “Sorry. I would stand up, but…”

Crawly shuffled closer, deftly avoiding the snakes, and leaned over him with wide eyes. Wide, _glowing_ eyes. How interesting. The desecrated ground must be augmenting his demonic power. Aziraphale wondered if he couldn’t control the glow, much like he couldn’t alter the slitted pupils.

“What… how did… you look like _Heaven,_ Aziraphale,” Crawly exclaimed. “Hell, I mean. Er, shit. You look like shit.”

“I’m well aware.”

“What did those humans _do_ to you?”

“A lot of unpleasant things. If you don’t mind, my dear…?”

Thankfully, Crawly didn’t need him to elaborate further. “Oh, yeah, of course. Let me just… you lot, clear off! He doesn't need any more smothering!”

The snakes moved, but reluctantly, spitting and snapping at the demon’s hands as they reached for Aziraphale. He sighed in relief and braced himself, only wincing a little when Crawly slipped his arms beneath Aziraphale and lifted him up.

“Easy, angel,” Crawly murmured. He readjusted his grip and tipped Aziraphale’s head against his shoulder. “We’ll be out of here soon.”

“Out?” Aziraphale asked, more confused by the minute but too exhausted to be afraid of whatever was coming. If Crawly preferred to make a show of it by killing him on the altar instead, it really made no difference. As long as he was quick about it.

“What’s with all the snakes, anyway? Did you hypnotize them or something? Good idea, using them as a shield.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “They did that on their own.” He cringed away from the first glimpse of sunlight through an open window as they ascended a set of stairs to the temple proper. Several unconscious humans were sprawled out nearby, and after Crawly stepped over them, he threw a sharp hiss over his shoulder. Aziraphale looked back and watched the snakes slithering along in their wake descend upon his captors, biting and strangling with impunity.

“Oh dear. Was that necessary?”

Crawly snorted. “Ask your little army. They seem to like you, for some reason.”

“Well, I’m sure I haven’t a clue why,” Aziraphale said, frowning. “Can you speak to them? Don't they listen to you?"

“They’re _snakes,"_ Crawly said, like that explained everything. "I gave them all a bad reputation with the apple thing. If they had their way, I’d be voted out of the club entirely.”

“Oh.”

They came to the temple doors, which Crawly shouldered open. Aziraphale gasped as they stepped over the threshold and left the desecrated temple behind. Oh, that was _much_ better. He had almost forgotten what it was like to not feel that infernal weight pressing down on him, leeching his strength, burning every part of him that touched the ground. A winding dirt path before them led through a small copse of trees, and there was a town somewhere beyond, or there had been when Aziraphale was first imprisoned. He had no idea how much time had passed.

“I can take you as far as the nearest inn,” Crawly said. He miracled a heavy grey robe onto Aziraphale’s naked form, the hood drawn up to shield his face from the brutal sun. “I’m not supposed to be here, I’m due in Nepal later today. You should have sent me a message sooner!”

Aziraphale was very confused now. “An, an inn?”

“Yeah, sorry, I can’t stay long.” He sounded genuinely apologetic about that. “And I’m not just gonna leave you lying in the street, not like this. I’ll put up some wards, hire a doctor to look in on you while you recover. You’ll be fine, as long as you keep a low profile.”

“You, oh.” It finally clicked, what was happening here. “You're helping me?”

“Blimey, you’re out of it. You _sent_ for me, remember? I thought it was a trap at first, but I told myself, what would be the point of that? More likely he’s got himself into some mess he can’t get out of and he doesn’t want Head Office to know, so why not call in the demon who _clearly_ has nothing better to do with his time? You owe me one, by the way, I’ll be calling in a favor just as soon as…”

Aziraphale reached up and wrapped his arms around Crawly, sighing now for an entirely different reason. “You came for me,” he breathed. “You _saved_ me.”

“I, ngk, you… don't read into it!” Crawly said hotly. “This is purely self motivated! You’ll see, I’ll make you regret it somehow.”

A hiss came from the general vicinity of the ground. Crawly cursed and stumbled. “And tell your new _friendsss_ to leave me alone!”

“Are they saying mean things to you?”

“Yesss! They’re a bunch of little motherhens, they think I’m planning to eat you. Which I’m _not,_ you can put the fangs away! Hey, he was my angel first, get your own!”

* * *

They met again in Rome, some number of years later. Long enough for Aziraphale to look back on that unlikely rescue and fret over it at length and ultimately decide not to worry about whether their respective offices would find out. If pressed for an answer, he would insist that the more frequent conversations and occasional cooperation were purely for reconnaissance. He was just being dutiful, keeping an eye on the opposition. And if this reconnaissance also happened to come with a shared platter of oysters and a bottle of wine, well, he had to keep up appearances, didn’t he?

“You _kept_ one of them?”

Aziraphale looked up from the oyster he was about to slurp down. “What? Oh!” He reached up and touched the head of the little green snake peeking out of his collar. “I wouldn’t say _kept,_ exactly. The scoundrel squirreled himself away in my pocket, and now I can’t seem to be rid of him. Not that I want to, he’s such delightful company. He chases mice away from my scrolls!”

He stroked the tiny head fondly and held up the oyster. The snake rubbed its snout against his fingers, then stole a sip of the juices from the oyster before burrowing back into his toga.

Crawly _(Crowley,_ he must remember that) made a face. Nearly the same face he had made when he tried one of the oysters earlier and declared it _icky._ “Riiight,” he said sardonically. “Angel with a pet snake, that’s not contradictory at all…”

“I don’t like to think of him as a pet,” Aziraphale chided. “And it’s not so strange, when you think about it. As you said, the snakes did nothing wrong.”

Crowley shook his head and picked up his cup for another sip of wine. “Just don’t go sticking _me_ in your pocket,” he muttered.

“I don’t think Antonius would be very happy about sharing,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley promptly spat out his wine.

“You named it _Antonius?”_

“Yes? Why?”

“No reason!” Crowley slumped down in his chair, arms crossed. “No reassson at all,” he grumbled.

From the depths of his robes, Antonius hissed in a manner that almost sounded smug.


End file.
